


thou are'th air in my lungs

by quensty



Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: jason is struggling, leo is just an asshole, percy is genderfluid, the jercy is kind of minor too i'm trying to focus more on percy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 19:43:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5261195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quensty/pseuds/quensty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy is at a house party (or really just a huge scale dinner with company representatives Sally is forced to attend to after being officially – and somewhat desperately – named supervisor of the candy store she works at) when it happens, but “technically it’s still a house party” and his mother will fight him for it if he disagrees, so yeah. It’s a house party he’s at when it happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	thou are'th air in my lungs

**Author's Note:**

> a little fic I wrote in July when the same-sex marriage was passed, and even though it was hardcore awesome, I wrote this in hopes of bringing out the rest of that community to light. I just now finally got around to posting it, so there.

Percy is at a house party (or really just a huge scale dinner with big kid company officers Sally is forced to attend to after being officially – and somewhat _desperately –_ named supervisor of the candy store she works at) when it happens, but “technically it’s still a house party” and his mother will fight him for it if he disagrees, so yeah. It’s a house party he’s at when it happens.

It’s a boring business house party, the kind where Percy has to sit at a large, narrow table surrounded by adults that respectively pour wine into tall glasses every five minutes, just to get the bad taste from the conversation he just had with the man to his left. Percy is six and wears a tux that chokes him from the throat, sitting fidgety in his seat and very uninterested in what everyone is talking about and he just wants to _leave_. He looks down the table to his mother, whose chatting pleasantly with no person in particular at the end of the table, her hair set in even curls by her cheek. It’s one of the only times he’s seen her dress up so elegantly in his entire life; it makes him feel a little lighter. Sally eventually spots him staring and spares Percy an encouraging, almost apologetic grin before sliding back into her discussion with the group of adults.

Percy wants to cry as he looks around himself, strangers four feet above his head, and urgently tries absolutely not to bury his face in his arms. (He’s not being a crybaby, he is not.) It’s only then that he notices the woman a few chairs away from him: she’s a lanky, short thing with long hair stretching down her chest. She’s pretty, but not in the way that wealthy women Percy sees usually are, but in a natural, fresh from swimming kind of way that poorer women – women like _Sally_ – usually are. She wears a modest, fire copper dress with a shawl wrapped around her arms; she sticks out brightly against diamond bracelets and long gowns, and Percy wonders how he didn’t notice her before.

She has a fist against the side of her mouth and looks just as bored as Percy feels. She looks over at Percy after a minute, slowly comprehends that he is watching her, and smiles sweetly, just like Sally smiles at him. It’s in that moment that he decides he likes her. “Hi,” she greets, all candy-mouthed and lake blue eyes,

“Hello,” Percy answers, stiffly and awkward. He points to her neck, childish in the way he jabs the air for emphasis. “That’s a very pretty necklace.”

She reaches up and grabs hold of the small necklace hung over her collar, and holds it in her palm in a self-conscious sort of gesture. “Thank you.”

Percy nods, agreeing. He jabs again. “Could I try it on?”

The woman gives him a look of surprise. “Are you kidding?” she asks, and in that constricted, white-hot second Percy’s heart sinks, and he feels nothing but embarrassed, his cheeks burning with shame.

“This is a really expensive necklace and my mother would kill me if she caught me without it.” She hands him a toothy grin, amused and bright, waggiling her eyebrows in a way that makes Percy giggle the anchor of shame in his gut away. “But I have a whole bunch of other ones in my trunk. Follow me, my good sir.”

That’s how it happens: a woman (Hestia, she would later tell Percy, just call her Hestia) would bail Percy out of a boring dinner party with boring people to haul him into her car to try on various necklaces stuffed in her trunk instead: cheeky collar necklaces, hoops of bracelets, shy rings. (Hestia tries one on, showing them off. “How do I look?”

“You look like a princess,” Percy giggles, twirling. He falls down on his back, still laughing hysterically.

“And you’re the prince,” Hestia says, patting him.

Percy narrows his eyes. “I’m the queen.”

Hestia nods solemnly. “Always be sure of who you are, Percy Jackson.”)

They try them on and laugh and twirl until the sky is blue with the stars in the sky, Percy so filled with gold he starts to doze off on Hestia’s shoulder, warmth soaking into his whole body. That night, Percy and Hestia have more fun than anyone else at that party.

 ~

Percy is standing in the middle of the woods, sticks in his hair and the adrenaline of playing Capture the Flag washed out of his body entirely. There’s blood up his sleeves from getting pushed to the ground, and some of that sticky, golden dust sprayed all over his armor, but that’s not what Percy notices; what he notices instead is the blue glow above him, lighting up everything he sees with a popsicle halo.

He watches as campers around him start to gasp, falling on their knees by what seems like habit, but their eyes are trained at the glow above his head the whole time. The comprehension of what’s happening dawns on him slowly, and in that moment Percy abruptly – randomly is possibly the better word – a day in health class a few weeks ago, sitting by the window and tapping his pencil, counting the seconds until he’s dismissed. He also remembers the hazy, background music of his teacher talking, explaining that when someone panics, time seems to slow down, and it gives the mind some time to think thanks to hormone cells in the brain and _blah blah blah._

That means it gives a lot of time for Percy to think of what Chiron, sunken to his knees, will say in front of all these people because he’s _heard_ about the claims and he _knows_ Chiron has to say son or daughter and Percy is _worried._ Chiron knows him almost as well as Grover, and even though during class he always used ‘him’ there was always that twitch in his eye like _I know._ Chiron’s always known everything.

“All hail Perseus Jackson,” Chiron says, “heir to Poseidon,” (Percy’s heart lifts just as his mouth does, high and arched.) “God of the seas.”

Percy doesn’t remember ever feeling so relieved as he does now.

~

Jason is new to all this, Percy knows, and that’s why he doesn’t blow up when Jason asks him questions methodically while he sits, staring solemnly at the loose seam on his blanket and picking at it. Jason grew up in a Roman influence, Percy also knows, something people might even call religious if it wasn’t for the fact that was highly, _highly_ out of context. But he can still forgive him for this, at least as long as he thinks of it out of context.

“So you like neutral gender pronouns, but on certain days ‘him’ and ‘his’ is alright, right?”

“Yeah.”

Jason. “So, like, ‘their’, ‘theirs’, and ‘they’?”

Percy. “I was thinking more along the lines of _your majesty_.”

(Snorts.) “Dumbass.”

“Yeah, that works, too, I guess.”

~

“Gaea only needs a female and male blood drop to awaken,” Annabeth says again, trying for even more urgency, discipline. She’s leaning her elbows steadily on the table they sit at, and the way her eyes shine with lightning makes Percy want to cower. It occurs to Percy in that second, her face straight and jaw firm and set that she subconsciously takes after her mom more than she realizes. “Everyone has to be on high alert.”

“Okay, wait, wait, wait,” Leo interrupts, “so Percy isn’t, like, _just_ one gender, right? So doesn’t that mean he’s sort of like both?” He motions with his hands, not so very subtle when he swipes a finger across his neck and jerks his head in Percy’s general direction.

Everyone knows where Leo is heading with this, but Piper’s the closest, so she’s the one that gets to sock him in the head. “Don’t be an ass, Valdez; and grow up a little.”

Like most of Leo’s bad ideas, they end up true in the end when Percy is knocked to the floor with his blood painting the grass copper, and a trembling of the earth and a terrible, bass deep laugh makes Percy’s gut constrict. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Leo shove Piper in retaliation.

~

There are more pressing matters at the time: Norse gods are apparently, well-true and alive; Nico also, apparently, knew about it (as per effing usual); and there’s these things – these _weird_ , slimy and slithering _things_ that Percy has never even _seen_ before, not quite sure where the right place to hit is so he just _slays_ ; blood and scratches cover his entire face, and Jason is just there _sitting on his ass._

“Take your time,” Percy calls sourly, stabbing another through the chest, “I can handle these guys.”

Then Jason does something amazing – something Percy should tell Chiron after all this is over with, just so they can add another miraculous, Superman like specialty under Jason’s name. Jason is known for his inability to ever get the fuck out of the spotlight. A sword runs through reptile skin right next to Riptide faster than the words have left his mouth, and the monster bursts to white powder and goo not much unlike clouds and rain. Jason Grace, naturally, seemed to have teleported to the spot.

Percy is panting, heavily dedicated to being entirely cross with Jason, but the look he’s giving Percy makes it really, really hard.

Percy shrugs self-consciously. “What?” he grunts.

Jason grins happily. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Percy opens his mouth multiple times before anything finally decides to come out. “I don’t know if I should consider that a neutral adjective or not.”

“Shut up, it is,” Jason repeats, just for good measure, “You’re beautiful.”


End file.
